


The Cuckoo's Nest

by joidianne4eva



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joidianne4eva/pseuds/joidianne4eva
Summary: For as long as Simon could remember, he’d had two mothers. Not like Joshua, whose two mothers picked him up from school and held his hands when he was scared. No Simon had a father for that, a father who tucked him in at night and attended meetings with his other-mother, the normal one. Simon also had another mother…a not-mother.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. 
> 
> I blame Coraline for this.

For as long as Simon could remember, he’d had two mothers.

Not like Joshua, whose two mothers picked him up from school and held his hands when he was scared. No Simon had a father for that, a father who tucked him in at night and attended meetings with his other-mother, the normal one.

Simon also had another mother…a not-mother.

His not-mother told him that she’d always been there, always loved him even more than the other-mother and Simon believed her.

She told him stories in the dead of night while his other-parents and sister slept.

She whispered tales of the cunning cuckoo who slipped her babies into a nest that would ensure their survival and Simon clung to her clothing as she stroked his hair, her hand so cold against his skin.

Simon liked the stories about the cuckoos but most of all he loved the stories about the changelings and his not-mother told him them often, pressing kisses to his eyelids as he fell asleep.

Simon wasn’t a changeling; not-mother told him so. She’d loved him too much to let him go, instead she’d followed him through to his waking world and while he slept she led him through to hers.

Simon met the changeling children, the ones left behind to replace those stolen away and he grinned at the envy in their eyes because they would never be like him, they had no not-mother, no other-parents who wanted them too much to let them go.

Not-mother often warned against taunting the changelings but the first time that Simon emerged from a scuffle bloody and smiling, she dressed his wounds with dewdrops and placed a flower crown upon his head.

His other-mother met new friends, ones who she actually liked. A pretty woman named Jocelyn and her husband Luke. Sometimes they brought their daughter Clary over to play with Simon but whenever Jocelyn looked at him it made Simon’s tummy hurt and he hid himself away until they left.

The first time his not-mother met Jocelyn, Simon was curled in a ball on his bed, twisting around the pain in his stomach.

Simon didn’t remember much of what happened, his body ached and he remembered the sight of his not-mother’s teeth, gleaming white like the bones that made her throne, and the screams…he remembered the screams most of all.

Jocelyn never came back after that and Clary only played with Simon at school.

Simon’s stomach didn’t hurt anymore either.

He told his not-mother as much and she laughed, her voice ringing like tiny bells as she led him through her labyrinth.

Other people came to his not-mother’s world but Simon liked the man with the cat eyes most of all. He made Simon laugh with his magic tricks and Simon decided, at the tender age of six that the man was his favourite person, other than his not-mother, of course.

“That’s nice, Solomon,” the man chuckled when Simon told him as much.

Simon didn’t feel even the tiniest bit bad about biting the man on the shin for that…he never forgot Simon’s name ever again because his teeth were much sharper in not-mother’s world.

When Simon was eight his other-father died and Simon watched passively as his other-mother cried.

He let her hug him and listened as she told him not to feel bad about being sad.

Simon wasn’t sure why he should have been sad in the first place. His not-father had been forever sleeping ever since he could remember and his not-mother had never cried.

She often let Simon climb on the amber case that surrounded his not-father so that he could try to touch the crown on his head.

Forever sleep wasn’t a bad thing, it just meant that you weren’t as strong as you could be and that someone had taken your breath.

His not-mother kept his not-father’s breath in the pretty pendant she wore around her neck and sometimes if Simon was quiet enough he could almost hear him whispering from within the green stone.

Simon hoped that they’d get a nice casing for his other-father too.

Simon was twelve when his not-mother told him about Shadowhunters and it made him feel sick, like he had when Jocelyn used to visit.

He didn’t speak to Clary for weeks after that because a cuckoo raised by another bird was still a cuckoo and where he’d once like the redness of Clary’s hair now it reminded him of the blood of his not-mother’s family.

His separation from Clary didn’t last long because she still made his heart flutter.

The changelings tried to convince him that that meant he was supposed to eat her but Simon wasn’t stupid, you only wanted to eat the strong ones and while Clary was strong, she wasn’t strong enough to make Simon want to steal her breath.

His not-mother hadn’t said anything to encourage or discourage him but Simon could feel her eyes on him whenever he lingered in Clary’s company and it made his gums itch.

Simon was eighteen when everything shattered. Jocelyn was gone and Clary was scared, scared enough to run right into the arms of the boogiemen from Simon’s nightmares.

Then Clary was back and they were hunting for memories and Magnus and the changelings were surrounding him, writhing in the club as Simon lost himself to their song, the one humming beneath anything that the other downworlders could hear.

“Come home to us, little prince,” they whispered and Simon was cold, so cold but he couldn’t leave. Clary needed him and his not-mother hadn’t tried to stop him but she hadn’t told him to go either.

“They’ll kill us, you can feel it. They’ll kill us and they’ll get away with it,” the voice was more urgent now and Simon bared his teeth at the fear thrumming through the tone, his mind wavering, then someone screamed and Simon glanced up in time to meet a pair of dark eyes that made his heart stutter in his chest.

The air hummed around him, stretched taut like a guitar string and Simon was moving before he knew it, leaving the changeling and Clary behind, eyes never leaving the pair before him.

Bodies moved out of his way and Simon’s heart thundered as his lungs heaved for air, his skin prickling because this was what he wanted, he wanted…

“Not yet.”

His not-mother was ethereal in the lighting, her grey eyes gleaming as they met Simon’s and while her smile was gentle it was sharp enough to stop Simon in his tracks.

“Want,” Simon hissed and he could hear an answering snarl from behind his not-mother but she didn’t waver.

“My darling child,” she cooed, a hand coming up to cup his cheek and the world tilted on its axis as she grinned. “My sweet winter babe, come away until you are strong enough for the war you are going to start,” she whispered and Simon’s eyes closed against his direction but even as the world faded to black a single name floated up to meet him.

**_Raphael_ **

Then Simon was nineteen standing over the body of the vampire, who’d tried to feed from him and use him to get to Clary, his fingers shaking as he stared at the blood on his hands even as the woman’s second in command approached him warily.

Simon didn’t want that, never from this man, so he let his hands drop. He could feel his teeth blunting into something more human in his mouth but it didn’t take away the taste of iron that lingered heavy on his tongue and he didn’t want it to.

“What are you?” the man…vampire, whispered.

Simon shook his head because he didn’t know. He only knew that he had a not-mother and that he was so cold because there was no breath for him to steal from his vampire but he wanted…he wanted everything that Raphael was. He wanted to consume it and be consumed until there was nothing left.

Raphael inhaled slowly, “You’re not mundane,” he frowned.

“I’m not a lot of things,” Simon admitted aloud. He wasn’t so many things but there were a lot of other things that he was.

Raphael’s eyes flickered to the crumble remains of what had once been his clan’s leader.

“I’m the leader of our clan now,” he noted almost absentmindedly, exhaling slowly even though he didn’t need to and Simon was moving before he knew it, freezing suddenly when Raphael bared his fangs in surprise.

“Do it again,” he begged and Raphael frowned but Simon needed it. He’d trap it in emeralds and keep it close to his heart just like his not-mother had taught him.

“Do what?” Raphael hissed.

“Breathe,” Simon whispered and Raphael eyes widened before they narrowed in understanding.

He inhaled then exhaled just as slowly and Simon swayed on his feet, clutching at Raphael’s leather jacket to keep himself standing.

“Did I say that I was going to be a clan leader?” Raphael asked and Simon just hummed because Raphael didn’t need to breathe so Simon could take his breath and it would do nothing to him. He’d never be locked away like his not-father and Simon would never have to pretend that part of his heart wasn’t trapped in stone, like his not-mother did.

“As clan leader I think I should start promoting inter-species alliances,” Raphael carried on and Simon blinked through the haze of pleasure still coursing through his system.

“Oh,” he whispered and Raphael grinned, flashing his pretty fangs in Simon’s direction.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Simon could hear his not-mother’s laughter.

And somewhere deep beneath that he could hear the sound of war drums.


End file.
